


Live Venue

by blueshine



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Fusion is just a cheap tactic to make weak dryads stronger, Introspection, Plant...kissing?, Post-Canon, Rated Teen Because of One (1) Swear, sloane loves her girlfriend too much, wedding fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 19:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14362260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueshine/pseuds/blueshine
Summary: There were a lot of weddings under a specific tree in Goldcliff.





	Live Venue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avislightwing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avislightwing/gifts).



There were a lot of weddings under a specific tree in Goldcliff.

It hardly mattered who. It didn't matter if the wedding was elaborate or on a budget. If the couple was surrounded by family or eloping. If the couple just turned of age or if they were on the last leg of their life. If they were a couple, or three, or more. Race, ethnicity, sex, gender, disability, lack of intimacy or physical connection--none of these things mattered in love. As long as the relationship was healthy and balanced and true, they were welcome.

The only requirement was love, and there was no shortage of it under this tree.

The officiates learned to leave time after the vows for the tree's tradition. Once the couple exchanged their vows, the spirits within the tree would send a signal to bless the union. For most, it was a swirl of petals that surrounded the couple and their guests. Verbal blessings were uncommon, but seen as a good omen. Rarely, the spirits would come out of their tree to carry on the rest of the wedding on their own. They only did that for personal friends and especially radiant couples, and when it happened it would always make the papers.

Of course, that wasn't the only time the spirits of the tree could be seen. They were at the Saturday battlewagon races every week--the ones right at sunset. Nobody visited the tree then. They would all clamor in the stands to try and get a glimpse of the lovers in the tree. No matter who was racing, they would win and they would look  _good_ doing it.

They wore masks and disguises, but of course everybody knew who they were.

But as much as they loved racing, they became more famous for the tree weddings as the years went on. As soon as wedding planners tried to charge for the venue, things went to shit. Vines grew in the planners' houses and offices. Bees and insects plagues followed them everywhere. Silverpoint grew in their yards, a clear and dangerous threat. And once the planners stopped charging, the vines and insects and silverpoint disappeared. It was as if Pan himself protected this tree. Young couples weren't taken advantage of in the tree's space. It was safe.

It wasn't just weddings. It was anything romantic. Confessions. Reunions. Vow affirmations. Any happy occasion would cause the tree to shake its petals. If it was quiet enough, they could hear whispers in the wind. Some nights, local businesses would tie up lights all around the area and play music for the community. More than a few people met their life partners by attending one of these. Some reported the feeling of spirits on their backs, leading them to a specific spot.

In special cases, visiting the tree would trigger a miracle. When partners came to visit the tree afflicted with a slow poison or a deadly disease, they would find their woes cured by the next sunrise. When a set of spouses couldn't conceive, they could find a child on the streets as they made their way back home or they would notice a strange feeling in their stomachs as they left. When a lover came to visit on their own, their partner taken by time, disease, or war, the tree had nothing to give them except wisdom. Somehow, that was enough for most of these visitors. When an unhealthy relationship came to visit--whether the blame was on one, both, or neither--all of the tree's petals would turn grey and the couple would start to work through what went wrong.

When asked how these miracles could happen on a daily basis, a school dean, a dog trainer, and an Earl all had the same answer.

Although, most academic communities didn't accept  _the power of love_ as a defined magical source.

(They should have.)

After years and years, people thought the tree was a myth. The world became so far removed from the day of story and song that it was shrouded mostly in mythology. Couples who visited the tree for weddings became surprised when they heard voices in the wind. They jumped when they saw two women step out of the trunk, covered in bark and flowers. One girl screamed when a flurry of petals dropped on her head.  

Which, surprisingly, was preferable. Sloane thought it was more charming when the happy couple wasn't expecting a blessing. They felt special, important.

Sloane didn't remember all of their names and faces like Hurley did. She liked to keep track of them in case they ever came back. Hurley would talk about them when they left, things like, "oh, they were cute together," or, "that one reminded me of you!" Sloane tried not to think on it as much. If she thought about it too hard, she couldn't help but feel sad. Every couple that came by to see them had freedom, weren't chained to a single tree in the middle of Goldcliff. Sloane tried her best not to put a damper on the celebrations with her own problems. It was easier to stay detached, but friendly. Let them live out their time in a way that she never got to with Hurley.

Well, she couldn't be too disappointed. Her and Hurley had nothing but time now.

The battlewagon races never failed to satisfy her itch for more. Whenever she lamented the loss of a "normal life" with her girlfriend, all she'd have to do was get in the car and  _drive._ It might have been more of an illusion of freedom, but Sloane took what she could get. It wasn't like she had enough energy to be outside the tree all the time. Her power was borrowed from Pan. Most of the time, they had to stay inside the tree and rest. Again, not so bad: Sloane had a lot of time to talk to Hurley, time that they might not have had if they were allowed to live out their natural lives. Definitely more time than they would have had if their life ended with silverpoint. They were _lucky._ Sacrifice a little freedom to spend more time together? It was a fair trade, Sloane thought. Hurley said she felt the same way.

Or, Sloane  _knew_ that Hurley felt the same way. A strange side effect of living in a tree with another person  _while both of you are also the tree_   was that consciousness worked...differently. In cases where two souls willingly occupy the same space together, they act as a rough fusion of each other. When they first felt it happen, Sloane and Hurley both thought  _whoa, that's weird,_ and  _shit, that's cool!_ It wasn't that Sloane felt one way and Hurley another--once they left the tree to get in a battlewagon race, neither of them could figure out who had come up with which thought. It was both of their thoughts at the same time. They were a shared experience.

It was a strange sensation, but Sloane enjoyed it.

They could share their happiness. They could work through their problems with an intimate understanding of both sides. Sloane was able to give everything to Hurley in a way that few others could, and got all of Hurley in return. Being together in the tree warmed her, made her feel safe. It was like they had moved in together, but on a more intense level. Not that  _anything_ about their relationship could follow normal milestones, but Hurley tried to come up with translations. If that was how she coped, Sloane figured she should help any way she could. 

Once, when Sloane was in this space, a thought passed into her head. It was a thought that was hers and not hers all at once, something they shared together. A thought they came up with simultaneously.

_It'd be nice if we could get married._

It was a thought she'd--she  _and_ Hurley--started to have every time they watched a wedding. It wasn't jealousy or envy. They would never strip the couples that visited them out of their happiness. Despite their condition, they got the best ending that could have been possible. Sloane told herself that they had the tree, and each other, and all the time in the world. Technically, they were legally dead. They didn't need to pay taxes, and they weren't in any city records, so being married wouldn't give them any extra benefits. It wouldn't change anything. It was just a nice thought. That's all it was.

Still, that thought always crept into their heads.

Time passed strangely. Sloane knew that, theoretically, if she counted the Saturdays or the sunrises, she'd be able to keep track of how long they had been in the tree. But it didn't seem important enough to follow time so closely. Hurley didn't pay much attention to the passage of time either, and they figured it wasn't worth it to follow along. Too much changed for them to keep track. Sometimes, depending on the fashion and the politics, it would seem like time had gone backwards. But then Magnus would visit, with his graying hair and his wrinkled smile. And then Taako would visit, looking more or less the same, which confused them even further.

It was better to just let time pass on its own, without their involvement.

Still, it was fun to see milestones. Magnus brought over puppies, and then one blink later they would have puppies of their own. Taako dragged the same guy next to them over and over again, and then the guy pulled out a ring one day. Merle kept the tree's branches healthy, planted flowers along its roots. Battlewagon engines got more advanced. People started to live longer. Diseases that were once plagues came to be mild nuisances. The first time someone came to the tree with a camera, Hurley jumped out just to see how it worked. The photographer let them have a copy of a nice portrait he took of them together.

Hurley nested it right in between their battlewagon masks.

It didn't take long for the photo to wash out.

Seemed like the only thing that Sloane could count on to stay through the ages was Hurley.

Sloane stood on their battlewagon one Saturday, with Hurley driving. They weren't in a race. It was cancelled for Candlenights. Sloane liked the years where holidays fell on a Saturday, because it meant she could get in the wagon and drive aimlessly. It was one of the few times she really felt free. Not trapped in a tree, not confined to a specific area, not dead. Hurley had her foot slammed on the gas, going as fast as the wagon would let her. She must have been feeling trapped lately, too.

"Are you okay with this?" Hurley asked, eyes refusing to leave the road. Sloane spent enough time with her to know exactly what she was asking.

"Yeah," Sloane said. She didn't say  _sorry,_ but Hurley knew her well enough to hear it implied.

Hurley slowed the wagon. "Don't know how many times I have to tell you that it's not your fault."

It wasn't her fault, and yet it was. She was the one that gave into the thrall--pretty fucking willingly, too. She was the one with the silverpoint. She was the one who seduced Hurley...with racing. Hurley had told her time and again that it wasn't her, but it  _was,_ and Sloane didn't need to be coddled into thinking it wasn't. She'd look at Hurley's skin, which was bark now. Her hair was like the leaves of a weeping willow, flowered in the spring. Hurley didn't ask for any of this, it wasn't what she wanted, it was  _Sloane's_ fault--

Hurley's voice pried her out of her own thoughts.

"Do you remember our first race?"

"You were still trying to catch me," Sloane said, holding back a laugh. "You thought you could get me while I was driving."

Hurley pouted and gripped the wheel tighter. "It's not my fault I  _fell in--"_

"It was cute." Sloane smiled and slid into the seat next to Hurley's. "I'm glad you fell into my passenger's seat."

"I was going to say in love," she said, and slowed the wagon to a stop.

Sloane took the opportunity to wrap her arms around Hurley, now that she wasn't focused on the road. "Why are you stopping?" 

"Distracted driving is against the law." Hurley smiled, eyes shining brighter than the sun and stars. "You know I'm still a cop, right?"

She smiled back, knocking her forehead against Hurley's. "Sure, but you  _also_ failed an acrobatics check so hard that you landed right into the passenger's spot."

Hurley looked up at her, amused. "You tripped over three separate wrenches while trying to carry me from the garage back to your place."

"You threw off my balance." Sloane pressed her lips to Hurley's--which, honestly, was more of a symbolic gesture than a romantic one, since both of them had bark for lips and it wasn't extremely comfortable. Still, when they kissed, Hurley would bloom. Little buds peppered her face where her freckles used to be, and some would come to bloom before disappearing later. 

Sloane thought it was the cutest thing in existence.

"Oh, look at that," Hurley said, her fingers grazing against Sloane's cheek. "You're budding now, too."

Sloane brought her hand up to her cheek and--yes. She felt a few soft buds there, halfway bloomed. Hurley came up to kiss her again, and again, and  _again,_ and the next thing Sloane knew, her entire face was covered in poppies. Sloane smiled, and kissed down Hurley's arm, noticing how the buds cropped up wherever she laid her lips. When it was time to come back to the tree, both were peppered in flowers all over, some of them so thick on the bark that they could have been mistaken for clothing.

_Maybe this is fine,_ she thought. 

The guilt didn't disappear, but it stopped creeping up as often as it used to. 

Sloane stopped paying attention to the passage of time entirely. Time was passing, she knew, but she didn't know how long she had been there.

They knew it had been a long time when Mavis came to be married.

She visited the most out of all their friends. The girl had a fascination with their tree. She'd sit at the trunk and braid the flowers her dad planted into her beard and hair. She tried to climb the tree once, and Sloane had to jump out to catch her. Sometimes, she would stand right in front and shout questions into the wind. Hurley thought she was a cute, curious kid, but Sloane thought the questions got a little too personal. At least she didn't try to flirt with it like her father (Merle tried  _once,_ and then his soulwood arm smacked him in the face). Sloane wouldn't hop out of the tree to greet her every time, but Hurley did. 

When Mavis was married, though, both Sloane and Hurley came out of the tree together.

They watched the ceremony all the way through. Mavis was so happy. Merle didn't say he was, but he looked proud. Mavis was radiant, and so was her partner. For the first time in a while, Sloane felt genuinely happy for a couple that wed at her tree. Happy that Mavis and her partner would have a life together. Happy that she would get everything that Sloane didn't.

Except, Sloane had everything she needed. Time with Hurley. Nobody could take that from her now.

The ceremony ended, but none of the spectators moved. Sloane assumed they were waiting for her and Hurley to make their exit. As Sloane was about to retreat back into the tree, Merle grabbed her with his wooden arm and asked, "Do you girls want to give it a try?"

"Give...what?" Sloane furrowed her brow as much as her bark allowed.

"We've got this all set up for a wedding," Merle said, gesturing around the tree, "Do you want one?"

Sloane could barely get out a "yes," before Hurley pulled her to the altar. Both grinned wide and held onto each other tight. It was strange, to have so many eyes on them. Usually, in the other ceremonies, the eyes were on the people  _getting_ married. But here, all the attention was on her and Hurley. It didn't matter that it wasn't planned in advance, or if they weren't dressed elaborately, or if they didn't have vows prepared. It didn't matter if it was late, or if they were technically dead. 

The only requirement was love, and Sloane had that in excess. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was....a birthday gift for the wonderful avislightwing, the person who has been plaguing my existence with cursed merle content. she asked for a hurloane or a johavi fic because of their "sadly low amounts of content" and who am i to deny the world hurloane content???????
> 
> anyway, happy birthday!!!!!!!!! 
> 
> and to everyone else, thanks for reading!!


End file.
